


Old Time Rock and Roll

by hazelandglasz



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Boys Being Boys, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Future Fic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-29
Updated: 2020-03-29
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:07:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23375152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hazelandglasz/pseuds/hazelandglasz
Summary: Prompt: So I was mostly just scrolling past this AU post, but "Sock skating in the newly waxed floors" caught my eye - for Zimbits? Like, trying to actually skate/play hockey? Or the entire Samwell team comes for a housewarming party at Jack's new place in Providence and this happens?
Relationships: Eric "Bitty" Bittle/Jack Zimmermann, Jack Zimmermann & Samwell Men's Hockey Team
Comments: 4
Kudos: 109





	Old Time Rock and Roll

“Jacky boy, you finally found a place of your own, you beautiful fucker.”

And that’s how Jack considers his new apartment in Providence to be baptized.

“What do you think, Shits?”

Shitty walks around the empty apartment—herringbone wooden floor, light grey stone on the kitchen counter, large windows in the living room with a reading nook—and nods firmly. “S’awesome, my boy.”

“I’m older than you.”

“And yet, you’re still my boy, aren’t you?”

“...I suppose so,” Jack admits with a small chuckle.

“When are the movers supposed to arrive with your furniture, Jacky?”

“Um.” Jack checks his calendar on his phone because he’s a responsible adult who keeps all of his appointments in one place. “Tomorrow afternoon, if all things go as they’re supposed to.”

Shitty comes back to his side and slams his arm around his shoulders. “So what you’re saying, Jack, is that this whole surface is ours to enjoy for the evening and matinée, amiright?”

“...Right.”

Faster than should be humanly possible, Shitty ends up in his boxers and socks, sliding across the room.

“SOCK SKATING COMPETITION, FELLAS!”

The other Samwell team members were either sitting on the porch, coming back from lunch shopping, or visiting the other rooms, but they all come back to the sound of Shitty’s war cry.

Bitty raises one eyebrow before coming to Jack’s side, letting Chowder slide past him. “Do you think they’ll hurt themselves or is it safe?”

Jack shrugs. “They’re hockey players.”

Bitty laughs, because yes, that is a complete answer.

“Join me?”

“What, you don’t feel like joining the competition?”

Bitty blows a raspberry. “Pff, please. I’d win the competition, whatever the stake is, bless their hearts.”

“Oh really?”

“Really.” Bitty pauses, looking at Jack over the rim of the sunglasses he inexplicably kept on. “Is that a dare, Mr. Zimmerman?”

“Not a dare,” Jack says, raising his hands in defense. “I’m simply stating that you don’t seem willing to put your assessment to the test.”

Bitty rolls his eyes and removes his glasses, sliding them in his collar before bending over to take off his shoes. 

Jack has never before wished to be a pair of sunglasses, and yet, here he is.

“I wanted to take advantage of their inattention to inaugurate your bathroom with a hot ’n’ heavy make-out, but fine,” Bitty whispers in his ear. “You want me to prove it, I’ll prove it.”

Jack’s mouth is suddenly drier than the Sahara.

Because as much as he loves Bitty, and all of his different facets, there is one Bitty he loves the most, and it’s Challenging/Cocky Bitty.

(Well. Second most. The top of his list is Cuddly Bitty, all warm and soft and tender, under a blanket that blocks out the rest of the world.)

The competition ranges from who can slide the furthest (Bitty) to who can make the sharpest turn (Tango, oddly enough), but the record for “who can end up with his face in the wall” belongs to Ransom.

That’s one record Bitty is happy to concede.

When some of the guys start reenacting the Risky Business dance scene, Jack smoothly slides up to Bitty.

“Now, about that earlier plan of yours…” he whispers into Bitty’s hair, trailing his fingers down Bitty’s neck, raising goosebumps in their wake.

“‘M listening.”

“Now sounds like a good inauguration time.”

“Lead the way, good sir,” Bitty whispers back, a twinkle in his eyes as he slides his hand under Jack’s shirt.

(They do remove their socks fairly quickly, because, it turns out, tiles are just as slippery as a freshly waxed floor, but not as fun to slide on.)


End file.
